The Children's Story
by Crystal Allen
Summary: AU. On Ciel's seventh birthday, he banishes an evil demon to a lonely glass hill with only a cat for company. Three years later on his tenth birthday, the demon becomes a part of his life again in a way Ciel never imagined.
1. A Demon is Banished

**Disclaimer**: I do not, of course, own Kuroshitsuji. And I would like to make it absolutely clear that the idea for this story is also not mine. I borrowed it from a book called _The Witch Family_, by Eleanor Estes, and decided to play around with it in the Kuroshitsuji universe. Just for fun.

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**Chapter One:**

_**A Demon is Banished**_

On a cold day in December about two weeks before Christmas, Ciel Phantomhive turned seven and invited his cousin over to celebrate, though she was only six. Ciel felt much older than Elizabeth now, and acted as though he had just turned seventeen instead of seven. Elizabeth was properly admiring, and since she liked Ciel better than anyone else, she did not mind.

Both of them were angelic in looks, if not in actions. Ciel's name meant _sky_ in French, and his eyes were an appropriate dusky blue. His hair was dark as well, and he always stood up straight because he was short for his age. Elizabeth's hair was as sunshiny as her nature, and her eyes were bright green, and she loved the color orange. Both children were very rich, but not yet entirely spoiled, and they had everything that they could possibly want in the world.

They were sitting in the playroom in Ciel's manor house outside of London. They were lounging comfortably in the window seat, eating a second helping of Ciel's birthday cake and being careful not to drop any crumbs so that the Japanese butler, Tanaka, would not have to clean up after them. They were tired out from having been playing hide and seek for the past two hours. In Ciel's large house, this was quite an expedition. While they ate, Ciel was talking about demons, and Elizabeth was listening.

Ciel had demons on his mind because, last night, his father had been reading a book about a man named Faustus, and Ciel, curious, had whined until his father consented to read some aloud. For a story that included demons, it had been very boring, but the name Mephistopheles had caught Ciel's interest because it was extremely hard to say, and there was something of a thrill about the idea of a demon walking around in broad daylight talking to people, and it set Ciel's little imagination whirring.

Elizabeth, who had only ever heard of demons in church on Sundays, opened her eyes wide. "I don't know what I would do if I met one," she told Ciel, when he asked her. "I'd be too frightened to do anything no matter how nice he seemed. What would you do?"

"I'd banish him," answered Ciel promptly. He liked to sound imposing, and besides, he had already known his answer and was hoping to be asked. "I'd tell him to turn right around and go back where he came from. ' I banish you!' I'd say. You can't just tell demons to leave; you have to banish them, or they'll walk all over you," said Ciel, who had heard his father use that expression and liked the sound of it.

"What if he wouldn't go?" asked Elizabeth, who was a great one for asking 'what if?'

"He'd just have to go," said Ciel, after another mouthful of cake. "He wouldn't have a choice. If you're banished, you're banished. And all demons should be banished, because they're wicked." Ciel, though he felt himself older and wiser than he had been the day before, had only a vauge idea of what it meant to be wicked.

Elizabeth meditatively licked frosting off her fork before speaking again. "Where would he be banished to?" she asked.

"To…" Ciel paused, unprepared for details. "To the hills," he said. "He'd have to live on a big glass hill, all alone, with no one else around to talk to and no souls to eat."

"Oh, Ciel!" said Elizabeth, startled. "Do demons eat souls?"

"The one I'm banishing does," said Ciel. "That's what makes him evil enough to be banished. It's not right to just go around pretending to be human, and really just trying to find souls to eat." Ciel's imagination tended to run away with him at times, and this was one of those times. He found the idea of banishing a demon to the hills to be incredibly enjoyable.

"Can demons really pretend to be human?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

"The really wicked ones can," said Ciel. "They can pretend to be anything they like. See that bird out there?" he pointed. On the barren tree in the yard the window looked out on, a solitary black crow was perched, looking lonely and sullen. "That might be a demon watching us right now."

Elizabeth placed down her plate of cake carefully, and opened the curtain wider to look directly out the window. Ciel had to give her credit; Lizzie was no scaredy-cat, even though she was only a girl, and only six. Then she did something that made Ciel like her even more. She undid the latch and swung open the window, letting in a blast of wintry air.

"Ciel says you're banished!" she called to the crow, who turned his head in the jumpy way that birds do to observe her gravely. "You're banished to the glass hill, and you can't have any more souls. You're banished until you give up being wicked! Ciel says you have to go!"

For a moment the two children looked out at the crow, and the crow looked back at them. Then, unexpectedly, the crow spread his inky wings and took flight. He flew away so fast that Ciel and Elizabeth soon lost sight of him. Elizabeth smiled and closed the window, but Ciel felt oddly nervous all of a sudden. The flutter of black wings made him shiver. But probably it was just the cold air.

"Ciel?" said Elizabeth, beginning again on her cake, "Don't you think he might be lonely, all alone on that glass hill?"

"He can have a cat, if he wants," said Ciel ungenerously, since he didn't like cats. "A black one."

"Make it a kitten," suggested warm-hearted Elizabeth, "so it will be able to live with him longer."

"All right," consented Ciel. "He can have a kitten if he wants. But no one else! He's still too wicked. He might eat their souls."

They finished their cake in silence, Elizabeth thinking of what game to play next, and Ciel thinking of the demon he had banished. He was thinking peculiar thoughts about what that demon might be thinking of _him_ just now; after having suddenly found himself banished.

But then there was a gruff bark from the doorway, and Ciel laughed and held out his arms to hug the gigantic head of the large black dog that had entered the room, tail wagging furiously, big brown eyes luminous. "Sebastian!" chorused the children, showering the happy dog with attention. Ciel had been allowed to name the dog himself. Sebastian was his favorite name.

The children forgot all about the demon that Ciel had just banished. The demon, however, had not forgotten about Ciel.

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A/N: I would highly recommend reading _The Witch Family_ to anyone who might be interested; it's such a worthwhile read. It's a perfect blend of reality and fantasy… kind of like Kuroshitsuji is.

Please review, and let me know if _anyone _is interested enough for me to continue this.


	2. Company on the Glass Hill

**Chapter Two:**

_**Company on the Glass Hill**_

Three years later, to the day, the demon Sebastian sat down on the front porch of his house on the top of a tall glass hill and sighed. He was cross and hungry, and he did _not _like being banished. Demons, to make up for their being so evil, are susceptible to even the simplest of magic, and so when Ciel had banished him, the demon had had no choice but to drop all his wicked plans and go.

The past three years had not been enjoyable ones for the demon. For one thing, the sun shone dazzlingly off the glass hill all day long, but the glare hurt Sebastian's eyes. Demons prefer to have some shadows in which they can creep and hide, and there were none here. For another thing, there were no souls! Sebastian thought of souls in much the same way that children think of chocolate cake, and the more Sebastian tried not to think about them, the hungrier he became.

But what was really miserable about the demon's banishment was that he was all by himself, and there is simply no use in being wicked with no one else around to notice. Sebastian had always been alone (except when he was chasing after a soul), but he had never been lonely. He was lonely now, and it was a new and unwelcome feeling.

He did not wish for the company of any other demons, since demons tend to be very unpleasant people, generally. And while he cared for his lovely black cat – as much as he was able to care for anything, that is – she was too smart to be frightened of his wickedness, and too curious about his evil powers to be intimidated by them.

On the day of Ciel's tenth birthday, the demon had been house-cleaning. As it happened, he was a demon butler, and he could not abide any sort of mess in his house. He liked to have things organized, neatly folded, and well dusted, depending on the object in question. He took great pride, also, in his personal appearance, and checked his reflection in the glass hill at least twice a day to make sure that he was always presentable. The cat always made it a point to live up to the demon's standard of cleanliness, and kept herself impeccably groomed at all times, washing her paws more than four times a day, when necessary.

As Sebastian sat on his porch, hungry and cross, something unexpected happened for the first time in three years. A bird flew up to him and dropped a letter into his lap. This was not a very polite way to deliver the letter, but the bird was only a goldfinch, and it was in a hurry to get away from the demon.

"Oh my, oh my," said the demon to his cat. "Who do you suppose this could be from?" He opened the letter.

It was addressed to _The Daemon on the Glass Hill_, and it was written very neatly. But Sebastian noticed, also, that it was tearstained.

_Dear demon,_ it read,

_Last night there was a fire and Ciel's house burned down. There's nothing left of it at all. My parents said that Ciel's parents are dead. But no one can find Ciel. (Ciel is the boy who banished you to the glass hill). I'm so scared for him. Please, is he there with you? If he is, won't you let me know? Tell him how much I miss him, if he's there. Thank you. _

_Love,_

_Elizabeth Middleford_

_P.S. – Remember you're not allowed to eat his soul!_

_Love, E.M._

Sebastian said nothing for a minute as he thought on this. He knew that the boy must be alive somewhere, otherwise he would be free to leave the glass hill. But the banishment held.

And then, from very far off, it seemed, he heard the voice of the one who banished him. The demon couldn't say how he knew it was the right voice, but he did. It sounded as though the boy was crying. The crying got gradually louder and louder, and sounded much closer, and soon it sounded like it was right there on the glass hill with him. He stood up quickly, still holding the letter, and the cat stood up as well.

There was a boy curled up in the far corner of the porch. It was Ciel, sobbing great wrenching sobs as though something inside him had broken. Then he looked up and saw the demon. He let out a gasp and sat up straight, scrubbing at his eyes with his fists. He was embarrassed to be seen crying by a stranger at all of ten years old. He tried to raise his head, but he could not fully stop the sobs that continued to wrack his chest.

Sebastian did not say anything at first. He only looked down at Ciel hungrily. This was partly because he was so lonely, and he was so surprised to see another person on his hill. But it was also because he had not eaten a soul in what seemed like a very, very long time, and demons like Sebastian are always hungry.

As old as the demon was – he was thousands of years old – he had never had any experience comforting crying children. So he sat down cross-legged, next to Ciel, and waited for him to stop crying. It took a little while for this to happen. Ciel was horribly sad, and in a terrible state. Nothing that Sebastian could not have inflicted tenfold, had he wanted to, but bad nonetheless.

When he did finally stop, the boy looked around and realized where he was. He sniffed forlornly as he took in the sunlight sparkling and glinting on the smooth glass. Then his eyes travelled slowly over to peek at the demon.

Ciel had always known that demons were terrifying creatures with horns and hooves, and perhaps a forked tail. He was expecting to see razor sharp teeth and talons and hideous burning eyes. But when he looked at the demon, Ciel did not know what to think.

The disappointing truth was that Sebastian was actually quite good-looking. He looked younger than Ciel's father, and his straight, dark hair was short in the back and longer close to his face. He was tall and well dressed, and he had strange, cranberry-colored eyes.

"Have you come to stay with me?" the demon asked Ciel.

Ciel fiddled with one singed and tattered sleeve, and blinked more tears away. "I don't know where else to go," he said.

Sebastian felt something then that might have been gladness, but he wasn't sure. The cat, consumed with curiosity but trying to appear bored, had ambled up to the boy and seated herself gracefully before him, so that she might observe him. Ciel tried to back away. "Cats make me sneeze," he said, in a small voice.

"This one won't," said Sebastian. "She wouldn't make anyone sneeze. She is much too well-mannered."

"What's her name?" asked Ciel.

"I don't know," said the demon. They were both a bit awkward and formal, since Ciel had no idea how to talk to a demon, and the demon had never taken care of a child before. "She's never told me her name. But she might tell you, if you ask her."

Ciel gave the demon a sad and skeptical look. "Cats can't talk," he said.

"Oh yes, they can," Sebastian told him affably. "If they feel inclined."

Ciel looked into the cat's golden eyes. Her tail twitched back and forth. "What is your name?" Ciel asked the cat.

"Castalia," she said. Then she turned away and became very absorbed in staring at nothing.

Ciel, amazed, looked again at the demon. "What is _your _name?" he asked. There was only a very slight hint of any fright in his voice.

"Sebastian," said Sebastian.

Ciel opened his mouth the slightest bit in surprise, then closed it again, as if remembering something very painful. "Oh," he said, very softly. He curled back into himself. "Oh." He didn't know why he hadn't expected it. It was his favorite name, after all.

The demon watched the boy, and Castalia watched the demon. Then she lost interest and began washing her black paws. The demon continued to watch Ciel. The cat knew, even if Sebastian didn't, that Sebastian was happy that the boy was there. But, she thought to herself with a sigh, she was going to have a hard time ever getting him to admit it.

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A/N: For anyone who might be interested, _Castalia _is the Muse of inspiration, who is sometimes included in Greek mythology, and sometimes left out of it. Evidently, she uses her time off to be Sebastian's cat.


	3. The Way of Things

**Chapter Three:**

_**The Way of Things**_

Ciel sank not long after into bottomless sorrow, and he was not able to pull himself out of it. The demon, still unsure of quite what to do, put the boy to bed and let him stay there as long as he liked. For something to keep him busy, he also baked a plum cake and an apple cake and set them aside for Ciel, for whenever he emerged. Judging mostly by guesswork, Sebastian knew that humans had certain foods that were healthy for them, and certain foods that were not. Fruit was healthy. Cake was not. He thought he might as well take a shot at combining both.

He had put Ciel in what had previously been the spare bedroom. Now, of course, it would belong to Ciel. Sebastian had never questioned the existence of a spare room in his house; every house has a spare room, even if it happens to belong to a demon. It was really a very nice, comfortable room, especially since Sebastian had just cleaned it. But he did not expect Ciel, in his distraught state, to notice this.

So it was quite a few mornings after he first arrived that Ciel finally left the house and thought to look around out of red-rimmed, sleepy eyes, brighter than usual with the remnants of tears.

It was a sight worth getting out of bed for.

Ciel realized, as he looked out past the porch railing at the surrounding hills, that theirs was the only one made of glass. There was a quilted hill, a polished and intricately carved mahogany hill, a hill made entirely of snap-dragons, a hill made of doors, a shimmering white snow hill, and a hill of mirrors in which all the other hills were reflected. Ciel's favorite was a little way off; a sloping marble hill in the pattern of a black and white chessboard.

Sebastian, who had seen nothing but these hills for the past three years did not find them quite as fascinating anymore. After all, he couldn't leave the glass hill to reach them.

He stood in the doorway now and watched Ciel, as he had been watching him ever since he arrived. There was still a hungry gleam in his eyes and he knew it, and he knew that Ciel knew it. He did not speak just yet. He had not spoken very much to Ciel at all, due to the fact that he was having an inner debate with himself. He was debating whether he was more lonely than hungry… or more hungry than lonely.

"Isn't it time you had something to eat?" he asked Ciel, who turned to look at him. Sebastian noticed how swollen his eyes were from crying. The boy shook his head no, and then looked very surprised when his stomach gave a distinct growl. The demon smiled.

Ciel followed him into the kitchen, and the cakes seemed to have both a comforting and calming effect. As Ciel ate – his table manners were flawless – he glanced at Sebastian. He chewed carefully, and swallowed. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked.

The demon watched as the boy put another well-spiced, plum-filled bite of cake into his mouth, and his inner debate ended. He smiled again in a puzzled way. "Am I being nice? I can't really tell. Perhaps I feel a bit sorry for you. But that's rather uncharacteristic of me, and baking is part of my job anyway. You probably shouldn't get too used to it."

Ciel didn't say anything. He knew that the demon's answer was not meant to be hostile or threatening. It was just the truth.

Ciel was slowly learning to accept events as they presented themselves. He knew better now than to be surprised at the fact that the demon was an excellent cook, and that the kitchen was very well supplied, considering its main inhabitant did not eat human food.

He allowed the demon to guide him through most of the day. The first thing to do, the demon told him, was to write back to Elizabeth. So Ciel did, though he kept it simple. _"Lizzie," _he wrote, _"I'm safe. I'm here on the glass hill. Don't worry. Ciel." _

_"_Don't you think that's a bit brief?" said the demon, raising one eyebrow. "She seems quite worried about you."

"It's fine," said Ciel. Sebastian sighed, but he sent the letter as it was with a bright red cardinal who happened to be passing, and was brave enough to come close to him.

"Your fingernails are black," Ciel noticed, as Sebastian sent the cardinal on its way. They had shown up distinctly against the bright red bird.

"They are usually claws," the demon explained. "But doing housework is much easier with shorter nails."

Ciel supposed he was right.

It was easy for Sebastian to pretend to be nice, and even to really be nice, because his argument with himself had ended well. The answer had been plain all along, really.

He was _much_ hungrier than he was lonely. Which meant that he would not tell Ciel his secret.

What Ciel did not know was that there was a loophole in Sebastian's banishment. Every year, for just one night, all of the wicked creatures who have been banished are free to go wherever they choose, as long as they go back to being banished in the morning. That night is All Hallows Eve. When Sebastian left the glass hill on Halloween night, the rules about his not being able to eat any human souls would be temporarily broken.

He could try to take Ciel's soul on that night, if he wanted to. And he wanted to very badly. Three years is a long time to go without eating. He was looking forward to it.

But for now, Sebastian was glad of the company. Ciel seemed to be a pleasant enough companion so far, even if he didn't know how to do much. Looking over at the boy after the letter had been carried out of sight, Sebastian saw that the buttons on his coat were pitifully uneven, and that the small bow at his throat was tied with one large loop and one small. Sebastian knelt to correct this, putting himself at Ciel's eye level.

"Don't you know how to do _anything_?" he asked, though not in a mean way. Ciel pouted.

"I can do sums," he said. Sebastian briskly tied his bowtie and stood up.

"That won't help you much up here," he said. "I am a demon and a butler, but I am not _your_ butler. I shall have to teach you."

"Teach me what?" asked Ciel.

"Everything," answered the demon. "You can't stay ignorant forever."

Ciel turned a bit red at being called ignorant, and Sebastian relented a bit. "You cannot know how to do things if you have never been taught," he said, "So I will teach you. It will not be so bad."

Ciel looked as if he doubted this, but he followed Sebastian back into the house.

Ciel turned out to be a good listener, and quite capable of doing anything he put his mind to. But he was also very stubborn, and gave Sebastian quite a time convincing him to wipe dishes and make his own bed. But the demon was patient and agreeable, and Ciel soon grew comfortable in his presence. As a matter of fact, he grew so comfortable that he forgot all about the tendency of demons to crave human souls. He did not think to fear for the safety of his own.

That night, after the sun had set and Sebastian had tucked Ciel into bed, he went outside to find his cat. He really had a soft spot for his cat. He found her sleek dark fur and soft purr very calming. The moonlight shone on the glass hill and illuminated it in midnight blue as it reflected the night sky.

But the cat, it developed, was not outside. Sebastian went back to his room and Castalia was stretched on the floor, batting one of the demon's black feathers between her paws and letting it float onto her nose.

"Is it too cruel of me," Sebastian asked, "tricking the boy like this?"

"Oh, no," answered the cat. "It is the way of things. I myself have eaten quite a few _birds_ in my day."

She gave Sebastian a very pointed look, then devoted her attention to the feather.

The demon frowned at her. "Well, there's no need to be vulgar about it," he said.

The cat only purred.

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A/N: This story is pretty much an experiment in stylization for me… this isn't my usual style of writing at all, but I hope it's turning out all right. I kind of like it; it's fun.


	4. The Odd Human Out

**Chapter Four:**

_**The Odd Human Out**_

Practical household chores were not all that Ciel was learning from the demon. In the evenings, sometimes, the two of them would sit in front of the fire – there were chairs and a sofa, but they always sat on the floor – and Ciel would listen as Sebastian told marvelous tales in the way that only an accomplished storyteller could.

The demon was only too glad to have an audience, since his attempts to tell stories to his cat were as useless as fighting a losing battle, and because, as a butler, Sebastian was almost never the center of attention, and he very much enjoyed being so now.

Demon stories, though not by far what anyone could call wholesome, are extremely interesting because demons do not see things the way that humans do. And also, largely, because they do not have to have a moral at the end, which is refreshing.

"Tell another," Ciel would say when one tale was finished, and Sebastian almost always complied.

He told Ciel about his many adventures and evil deeds; possessions, false hauntings, spur-of-the-moment dinner parties, the art of turning dreams into nightmares, and the like. Many of these were told with the purpose of frightening Ciel, but it developed that Ciel did not scare easily.

All of Sebastian's stories about himself ultimately ended with: "And then _you_ banished me, and now here I am," with only the slightest and most concealed hint of resentment in his cranberry-colored eyes.

But often he told Ciel different stories; stories about other creatures like himself that lived in hidden places in order to escape human imaginations. He told him about the faerie ford a few hills away, where the fair folk would take humans to a wild masquerade dance that might go on for years at a time… or until the unlucky human fell dead with exhaustion.

He told Ciel about Changeling children, stolen from their cradles in their infancy by mischievous elves and switched with imps, who lived all their lives in faerie and never remembered that they were once human. He told about humans that fell innocently asleep near a faerie ford and spent seven years inside of it as a favored guest, only to emerge to find that one hundred years had passed instead of seven, and that all their loved ones were gone.

He told twisted versions of the stories Ciel knew well, of princes who failed and princesses who slept forever; about kindly but victimized witches and murderous dwarves, evil jinn and warped wishes.

And then some nights, like tonight, he told Ciel about the people he had worked for in the past. He told about their contracts and their customs and the way they had lived their lives. He described them each in vivid detail, some more favorably than others. With the end of all these, Ciel would ask solemnly: "And when it was over you ate their souls, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Sebastian would answer. He always answered this way, but that didn't stop Ciel from asking.

Sebastian told so many stories that night that Ciel didn't go to bed till much later than he usually did. This made him both very tired and very grumpy when Sebastian woke him early the next morning.

"It is time for you to wake up," said the demon, drawing open the curtains to let sunlight spill over Ciel, who cuddled down deeper into his blankets. "You will be late for your first day of school."

"My _what?" _exclaimed the boy, suddenly quite awake and indignant. "I don't go to school. I have governesses."

"You don't have governesses up here," said the demon. "You only have me. And unless you have the sudden overwhelming desire to become a butler, I cannot teach you everything you need to know."

"I don't want to go to school," Ciel told him, in his most commanding voice.

"Nevertheless, you will go," smiled Sebastian. "Don't make yourself later than you already are – it reflects badly on me."

Ciel was not ready to give in. He sat up in bed determinedly.

"I speak French perfectly," he said, in French. "I take my violin lessons from you," (Sebastian was an excellent violinist) "and my fencing lessons. And you have me doing chores all day, on top of that. _Why_ should I go to school?"

Sebastian, while listening to him, had been laying out a freshly pressed suit of clothing on Ciel's bed. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" he asked.

Ciel looked at him curiously. "I shall take over my father's business," he answered, a bit stiffly, but in a gentler tone.

"Then you must attend business school, or you will never know how," said Sebastian, and Ciel could not argue with this logic. He huffed disagreeably and glared in Sebastian's direction, but he threw back his covers and swung his feet out of bed.

It was evidence of how much he had learned while living with the demon that Ciel then climbed out of bed and began, quite capably, to dress himself.

"Breakfast is waiting for you in the dining room," said Sebastian, as he left the room. The demon found an odd (and slightly sinister) satisfaction in cooking Ciel's favorite dishes and keeping him well fed. In a strange way, it was a little bit like living vicariously.

He had made Ciel's favorite red tea, on account of it being his first day of school, and after Ciel drank it, Sebastian sent him on his way. The school, Sebastian explained, was located through one of the doors in the hill of doors, and Ciel should hurry, since he really was late. Ciel, still yawning, slid down the glass hill (which had been tricky at first but got easier once Ciel had the hang of it) and made his way over past the snap dragon hill to the hill of doors.

There were doors of every color, size, and shape on this hill, and Ciel had to try a few before he found the right one; a plain wooden door with a shiny brass handle. The door creaked when he opened it, which was unfortunate, since every head in the schoolroom turned immediately in his direction. Ciel stood up a bit straighter, feeling self-conscious, but he gazed back proudly.

"It appears that our new student is late on his first day," said the teacher, a rigid young man wearing glasses and using a pair of hedge clippers as a pointer. "How careless of him. Well, I knew not to expect any less from a human. Take your seat."

Ciel did so, and knew all the while that he was being stared at and whispered about by the other students. He convinced himself that he did not care. There appeared to be a couple of elves, a few young reapers, and some children who he could not place or identify, one of which was a small, black haired, pale girl in white who was looking at him out of the calm, dark eyes of a swan.

"My name is William T. Spears," the teacher introduced himself, "as those of you with the courtesy to arrive on time have already heard me say once." One of the little reapers giggled unkindly at this. "I have been employed by the head of the death god's Dispatch Management Division, and I will be your professor in matters of business."

He sounded dreadfully stuffy to Ciel. A few of his classmates seemed to think so too, since they were deep in conversation about him, and obviously did not care if he could hear them. They had never seen a human before, and they were curious and critical. They noticed that he was more elegantly dressed and much handsomer than some of them, and they did not like this. They believed he was stuck up, and assumed that he was a snob.

"Where do you come from?" asked one of the elves, whose eyes were the green of an approaching thundercloud.

"I live over on the glass hill with the demon Sebastian," answered Ciel. His classmates stared at him in shock. This boy lived with the exiled demon!

"Ah," said the professor, who had been listening. He nudged the bridge of his spectacles farther up on his nose with his hedge trimmers. "You live with the… vermin… in his place of banishment. No wonder you were late. Demons have no sense of punctuality. Which, as it happens, is a factor essential to any successful business. Copy that down please, class."

Ciel felt that this was drastically unfair, since Sebastian always kept a gleaming silver pocket watch in his waistcoat pocket and was meticulous about his schedule.

"Sebastian isn't vermin," he said, feeling defensive. "And so what if I live with him? I banished him there, didn't I?"

This shocked the class even more, and though they were impressed with Ciel, they also came to the conclusion that he was bragging in an effort to impress them. William T. Spears, who was an uptight, no-nonsense kind of professor, gave Ciel extra homework as punishment for speaking out of turn. However, as Ciel did not draw undue attention to himself for the rest of the day and proved himself to be sharp and attentive, there was no further fuss.

When Ciel returned to the glass hill after the school day had ended, Sebastian was waiting for him in the kitchen, and he had made muffins, which Ciel appreciated. They were sweet, but not too sweet, and had exactly the right amount of blueberries.

"I will teach you how to make them," said the demon.

Ciel sighed, but his sigh turned into a yawn halfway through. "I think," he said, "that if I have to learn how to run a business, I should not also have to learn how to cook."

"But you will," said the demon, with a wicked spark of humor.

"I know, Sebastian," yawned Ciel.

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A/N: Oh, William T. There never was such a square. I do love him so. ;)


	5. Merrily We Live

**Chapter Five:**

_**Merrily We Live**_

On the morning of April tenth, Ciel awoke and said to himself, "Today is Lizzie's birthday."

"She is ten today," he told Sebastian over tea and scones. "It will be her first birthday without me."

"Perhaps you ought to give her something to remind her of you," suggested Sebastian.

So Ciel went outside into the spring morning to think of something. It was a weekend, and there was no school that day. It happened to be very windy that morning, and as soon as Ciel ventured off of the front porch and set foot on the slippery glass, the wind gave him a great push, and off the hill he tumbled.

It was frightfully embarrassing, but luckily Ciel was blown straight into the snap-dragon hill, which was soft with flower petals and sweet-smelling at that. Now, this was not a hill where snap-dragons _grew_, it was simply piles upon piles of flowers that never wilted or died, and Ciel had to dig his way out from the middle of it.

When he was finally out he hurriedly brushed himself off, his cheeks burning. He would never live it down if the demon were to see him with flower petals in his hair. Looking up at the house on the glass hill, he was relieved to see that no one was watching but the cat, who he felt sure would not betray the tale of his humiliating flight to Sebastian.

His fall had, however, given him a fairly bright idea. He picked a bouquet of snap-dragons for Elizabeth, of the biggest and most vibrant that he could find. It might not remind her of him, exactly, but she would know who had sent them.

He was glad that Sebastian had told him to find a gift. It was the sort of thing that Ciel might have thought of on his own, but not actually gone through with. Sebastian tended to be helpful in that way.

It was this sort of thing that let Sebastian and Ciel get along with each other. Sebastian would never quite forgive Ciel for banishing him, but it suited the demon to be needed. And Ciel knew that he should probably be more wary of the demon than he was, but he saw no real need for caution when Sebastian was so obviously making an effort towards decency.

Or so Ciel thought, that morning on the snap-dragon hill.

"You will have to wait until a bird comes along to send them to her," Sebastian reminded him, when Ciel returned with the flowers in his fist. So Ciel waited, constantly glancing out of windows and running out on the porch to scout for birds. It seemed to him that every time he looked away, a bird flew swiftly past and was gone before he turned his head. He had the feeling that, several times, he had just missed one by mere seconds. It was spring now, so where were all the birds?

In a little while, it began to occur to Ciel that the demon was nowhere around. He searched the upstairs rooms, going into each to glance out the windows, but Sebastian was not in any of them. This was odd, as there were only so many places to go, since Sebastian could not set foot off the hill. When at last Ciel reached his own room and went to the window, he barely glanced outside; he had given up on the hope of seeing any birds.

But then he did a double take, and a horrid feeling coiled like a spring in his stomach.

He saw a bird; a pretty blue jay. It was wrapped tightly in the demon's black-fingernailed hand, and the demon was kneeling down and presenting the bird to Castalia. Castalia looked very pleased as she leaned forward to take it from him with her teeth.

Ciel tore downstairs and swung open the door to the tiny side porch where the cat could often be found lying with her body stretched in the shade and her paws in the sun. Sebastian stood there, smiling, and Castalia sat with a few sad blue feathers at her feet. There was no blue jay.

"How many birds?" demanded Ciel.

"Three, today," answered Sebastian.

"And you caught them all."

"There are no trees around here, and very few birds, and Castalia gets a treat so rarely," said the demon, smiling all the while as if he wanted to laugh.

"You – you – just so I couldn't send the gift to Lizzie." Ciel knew that he had been taken for a fool, and he burned with humiliation for the second time that day.

"That you would think such a thing of me," said Sebastian, placing the hand that had clutched the blue jay over his heart. He looked so suddenly hurt that Ciel knew he was faking. "You - " was all he could manage, and he ran back into the house. Then he opened the door once again as if he wanted to add something, but closed it once more without saying anything. _And Sebastian a bird himself! _thought Ciel with contempt.

Oh, how he wished he could get Sebastian back for what he had done! But what, what could he ruin that the demon cared for? He could smash a tea set; that might annoy Sebastian. Or he could make a mess of the rooms; throw things on the floor, rip curtains from the windows. But if he made a mess, Sebastian was likely to make him clean it up.

No, none of those things would work. They were childish. Ciel hated to feel childish. He looked at the flowers on the table that he had picked for Elizabeth. Separated from their hill, they had wilted lamentably, and now looked like a dull, dried mess. Ciel had not known to put them in water, or at least to keep them in the ice box. Sebastian could have told him these things, but he hadn't.

This was one of the times when Sebastian and Ciel could not get along at all.

The demon liked to be needed, yes. But that didn't change his nature, and he could not help antagonizing Ciel every once in a while. Wickedness thrives on opposition. It kept things interesting, in Sebastian's opinion.

Ciel did not agree, and disappointment and shame in his failed gift weighed heavily on him every time he looked at the shriveled little bouquet. Elizabeth would not know that he had thought of her at all, now.

But beneath his discontent, he knew now what to do. He would find a way to disappoint Sebastian, one way or another. Sebastian ought to feel what he was feeling, Ciel decided. It was only fair.

The demon had come back inside, but he had not yet noticed any sign of Ciel's newfound vindictive streak. And even if he had, he would not have thought much of it. But he did know that he now had a very disappointed child as the cost of his entertainment, and he suspected that it might not be easy to get back in the boy's good graces. Ciel would not look him in the eye, and went around for the rest of the day in a dejected slump, snubbing Sebastian.

In the afternoon, Sebastian took up his violin, put the bow to the strings and played some of Ciel's favorite arias. But Ciel would not be swayed, though the violin sang in Sebastian's hands. He left the room without glancing at the demon, but the music floated all over the house and he couldn't help but hear it and know that he was being mocked with kindness.

At supper, the demon sighed theatrically.

"I did not know that you were in the habit of sulking when you do not get your way," he said. "It's extremely unbecoming."

Ciel did not answer him.

"She won't mind, you know."

Ciel looked up at the demon.

"She won't mind that you didn't send her anything."

"I know," said Ciel at last. "She was always nice that way. But I don't understand why you suggested that I give her anything at all if you weren't going to let me send it."

"For the fun of it," said the demon.

Ciel went back to snubbing him after that.

And the evening might have ended very awkwardly and unpleasantly indeed, if a very stuffy reaper in a stiffly starched suit had not rapped on their door just then with a pair of extendable hedge clippers and a frown on his stern young face.

* * *

A/N: Nothing makes you feel guilty like a disappointed little kid. Unless, of course, you're Sebastian, who seems to be immune.


	6. The Notebook and What it Begins

**Chapter Six:**

_**The Notebook and What it Begins**_

"Where is it?" asked William T. Spears.

"Good evening, professor. How unexpectedly delightful to see you. Where is what?" said Sebastian, who had opened the door and greeted the reaper as a proper butler should.

"My notebook. My black notebook that holds all my lesson plans and daily role, and my list of souls to be reaped. I would like it back immediately. And a word with you about the boy, if you don't mind," said William T., who seemed very vexed and obviously did not care whether they minded or not.

Sebastian stood aside to let William T. enter, and Ciel peered out curiously from the kitchen doorway. The reaper sat down without waiting to be asked. This must have annoyed the demon, Ciel knew, but Sebastian was not facing him, so he could not tell. Sebastian gestured to the kitchen.

"Would you care for - "

"No," said William T. "Let us not pretend that either one of us wishes to prolong this visit. The boy has played an ill-advised prank on me by stealing my notebook, and I came to retrieve it, and to tell you that you would be wise to discipline the boy. Which I suspect would be pointless, as he lives in the company of a demon."

Sebastian adopted a quizzical expression. Ciel, behind the kitchen door, scowled.

"Are you quite sure that your notebook is here?" asked the demon, with false and perfect courtesy.

"While I have no great love for either humans or demons, Michaelis," (that was the demon's last name, which he had picked out himself) "I do not make wrongful accusations. Now, will you question the boy and retrieve my notebook from him, or shall I be forced to search your… house… for it myself?"

Ciel had never liked his professor less than at that moment, not even when he had criticized Ciel's handwriting on the blackboard.

Sebastian's expression chilled. "I am afraid that neither of those things are possible at this time," he said. "You see, you have interrupted our supper, and I find your every mannerism very aggravating. I assure you, T. Spears, that your notebook is not here. No," he said, for William T. had opened his mouth to speak, "I regret that you cannot speak to the boy just now. It was ever so pleasant to see you, professor. Must you really go?"

Though Ciel hated to admit it, most of his anger at Sebastian was giving way to the pleasing spectacle of the stuffed shirt of a reaper being ever-so politely ejected from their home. He tried to catch hold of how furious he had been, but it was difficult.

William T., as he left, had one more thing to say. Looking straight into the demon's eyes, he said, very clearly, "I pity him, you know. What a waste of a good mind. Does he have any idea, I wonder, what will become of him in the end?"

"Goodbye, professor," said the demon. "Do watch your step on the way down." And he shut the door. "Not a word out of you," he added to the cat, who looked drowsily amused at the reaper's last words.

Ciel had darted back into the dining room and was back in his seat when Sebastian returned. He had heard the last exchange at the door, but he did not know what it meant. Mistrust began to stir inside him. What _end_ could William T. have meant? Sebastian could not eat any souls while on the glass hill, and he could only come down when he had stopped being wicked. Those were the rules of the banishment. They could not possibly be broken. Ciel knew these things, but somehow he did not feel reassured.

The demon took his seat and smiled. "_Did_ you take his notebook?"

"Of course," said Ciel. Sebastian looked pleased, since he approved of pranks.

"Shall we tamper with it?" the demon said.

"Why else would I have taken it?" said Ciel, managing to retain his cold expression. But he had a feeling that Sebastian saw through it.

"First," Sebastian said, ever mindful of his routine, "finish your supper." Ciel did so, and both of them were quiet.

"He doesn't like you," Ciel said, after a minute.

"I know," the demon said. "It does not bother me overmuch. I don't particularly care for him, either."

"He called you vermin," Ciel said.

"Unsurprising," commented Sebastian.

"I told him you weren't," Ciel said.

Sebastian looked at Ciel. His careless mask of a smile faded from his face, and in his eyes was a feeling that was quite as new and almost as unwelcome as his loneliness had been before Ciel came. He was quiet for a long time after Ciel told him this. He didn't know what to say, which almost never happened.

No one had ever defended him before. Not ever, in his whole long life.

"Thank you," he said at last.

Ciel, over dessert, (chocolate pudding and strawberries) reflected that he had had his revenge after all, in a way. The demon looked both nonplussed and almost… touched. And this, though not exactly the reaction that Ciel had been aiming for, was somehow just as satisfying.

That, however, did not last long, for the demon soon began teasing him about how loyal he was. Ciel wisely chose to ignore most of this, and was soon able to distract Sebastian from it with the treasure-trove of mischief opportunities that was the death god's notebook.

Just as when he had banished Sebastian all those years ago, Ciel did not suspect that he was doing any harm by tampering with the notebook. It can be safely assumed that the demon knew exactly how much harm they were doing, but if so, he kept the knowledge to himself.

The glass hill gleamed orange in the setting sun.

* * *

A/N: Finals week is over and I feel so free! Oh, the horrors of final exams. But now they are over and I have so much more time to write! Many, many thanks to everyone who has supported, reviewed and stuck with this story so far! I really can't express how much all your support and feedback means to me.


	7. A Slight Haunting

**Chapter Seven:**

_**A Slight Haunting**_

One afternoon while Ciel was in school, Sebastian discovered that the bathroom was haunted.

"You'll have to wash up in the kitchen," he told Ciel when he returned. "The bathroom is haunted today."

Ciel cleaned up at the china washbowl, then sat opposite Sebastian at the table and began, without asking, to help him grate cheddar for an omelet. They were making breakfast for supper that day.

"Why only the bathroom, and not the rest of the house?" Ciel wondered.

Sebastian gave an airy shrug. "I can't persuade her to leave," he said. "I told her that plenty of other rooms were quite as nice and equally welcome to her, but she seems to prefer the bathroom."

"She?" said Ciel.

"A young woman," said Sebastian. "Just recently dead and hiding from the reapers… afraid to be judged, I expect. Very polite but a little confused, I think. I had no choice but to let her be. Exorcisms have never precisely been my specialty."

"I wouldn't expect so," replied Ciel.

Sebastian stopped beating the eggs for a moment to frown. "I do hope she doesn't lead the reapers here. We would have to invite them in, and they make such tiresome houseguests."

"I'll speak with her," said Ciel, who had never met a ghost before and was curious. "What is she like?"

Sebastian considered for a moment. Then he answered, "Red."

Ciel blinked. Then he ran. Skidding to a halt at the bathroom door, he took a breath and opened it without hesitating. If he hesitated, he might not have been able to.

"Ciel!" exclaimed the ghost, clapping her pretty hands and smiling with red-painted lips. "Oh, how happy I am to see you."

"Hello, Aunt Ann," said Ciel, for it was his aunt Angelina and no other, looking just like herself. Stylish and chic in her smart crimson suit with a belt of black crushed velvet round her waist, and her wide-brimmed crimson hat overtop her silky scarlet hair and warm auburn eyes. She had been his mother's younger sister, a socialite, a well respected female surgeon; one of the first, and therefore a trail blazer, and she looked very much alive, for a dead woman.

"How did you die?" he asked numbly, as Sebastian joined him at the door.

"Oh, my butler did it," answered Madam Red with a careless wave, as if it were unimportant.

"A butler?" interjected the demon, looking scandalized. "How shameful."

"It's all right, really," said Madam Red comfortingly. "I rather deserved it." She lowered her eyes from her nephews' then, and stared, shamefaced, at her own hands lying palm-up in her lap. "I've been here for hours, you see, washing my hands over and over, again and again, but…" she trailed off, and Ciel saw that her hands were stained as red as her dress.

"The blood will not wash from your hands," finished Sebastian knowledgably. "That can happen sometimes. When one has committed… or would you rather I not say in front of your nephew?"

"Oh, go on," said Madam Red, with the air of a guilty child.

"Murder," said Sebastian, with a grin that neither Ciel nor his aunt appreciated. "The blackest of all sins." And Ciel looked at his aunt more closely than ever before, as if there were something he had missed.

"Sin isn't black," said Ciel's aunt. She looked too young and beautiful to be a murderer. "It's red."

"Have it your own way," smiled the demon with a nod.

"Never_mind_ about me," insisted Madam Red, looking plagued. "Have you been behaving, Ciel? Minding your lessons; saying your prayers?"

If Ciel had known the word 'hypocrite', he would have applied it to his aunt. He didn't know the word, but he thought it just the same.

"He is one of the best in his class," said Sebastian.

"I do _not_ say my prayers," said Ciel, with emphasis. Ciel sometimes found himself kneeling at his bedside out of pure ingrained habit, but he had not said his prayers since he came to live on the glass hill. Saying prayers in a demon's house seemed… well, sort of blasphemous, for lack of a better word. "What's the word for someone who doesn't believe in God?" he asked Sebastian.

"Atheist," Sebastian supplied.

"I'm an atheist," Ciel told his aunt. It was a satisfying word to say, like a curse word, almost, but much more poetic.

"I'm sorry," said Madam Red with sincerity. "That's too bad. It's nice to have something to believe in."

Ciel began to lose his temper. He had really taken in quite a lot for one day. "Well, you believe in God and I don't," he said impatiently. "And here we both are, so what difference does it make? I think this is silly. Dead or not, come out of the bathroom."

"He is right," said Sebastian calmingly, placing a hand on Ciel's shoulder. The gesture was not lost on Madam Red's sharp eyes. "That blood will never come off. And I think if you came out, you would find this an exemplary house for haunting. There are long winding passageways and no end of dark corners. We both know that the color scheme in this bathroom" (a tasteful off-white and lilac) "is too light for haunting. Come out, Madam."

She did eventually leave the bathroom, and, after exploring the house a bit, decided that the sunny, cleverly decorated library was to her liking, and asked permission to haunt it for a while, to be near her nephew, whom she had missed. "I won't get in your way," she promised with a wink. She would not, however, tell Ciel the circumstances of her murder, or why she had been a murderess herself, and he was often annoyed and angry with her for it.

Sebastian found no qualm with her for the first week. But after that, she was abruptly joined by another ghost. A large, white, loveable hulk of a dog named Pluto took a liking to effervescent Madam Red, and moved into the library with her. He doted on Ciel, and he cowered before Castalia, and he adored Sebastian with all his canine heart. Sebastian despised him, and was sharp and hateful towards him.

"I will not have this house be a gathering point for ghosts," he told Madam Red firmly. "One ghost is quite enough for a demon's house. And I _loathe _that dog. He is not even related to anyone here, as you are. He should find his rightful place and get there, before I am forced to take more drastic measures."

"Those who live on glass hills should not throw stones," quipped Madam Red, with a saucy glace at the demon as she scratched Pluto's ears.

"I _hate _dogs," said the demon threateningly. Madam Red looked quite calmly and fearlessly into his eyes.

"You hate dogs because they feel things more strongly than you ever will, and that makes you bitter," she said. "Don't take it out on Pluto, Sebastian, just because you'd like to think yourself better than him."

Sebastian was brought up short, and Ciel's aunt smiled. "Dying has made me very intuitive," she said.

Having the two ghosts living in the library did liven up life on the glass hill considerably, and the irony of that was not lost on anyone, except perhaps Pluto. But then, one day, Ciel awoke to find that the sly and amiable ghost of a Chinese opium dealer named Lau had moved in to the library as well. After this new addition attempted to sell Ciel opium, Sebastian decided that enough was enough, and threw the lot of them out. It was not an exorcism so much as an eviction order, but Sebastian could be very frightening when he made an effort.

Madam Red blew Ciel a farewell kiss as she departed, and laughed as Pluto licked Sebastian goodbye from collar to forehead. Ciel knew to stifle his laughter, but Sebastian heard it anyway and glared, livid.

In truth, both the boy and the demon were relieved to have the peace, quiet, and order of their normal life back. Ciel would miss his aunt for a while, but he would get over it, he knew. Sebastian was happier still, since ghosts, in essence, are souls, and no one suspected quite how hungry all those souls had made him every day. "I had to draw the line somewhere," he told Ciel.

But the cat was happiest of all, as she curled herself into the library's window seat to doze without the threat of an overzealous dog to disturb her nap.

* * *

A/N: I always liked Madam Red. She was such a fun and interesting character, and I wish she had been given more of a role before, you know… the homicides.

I considered having Ranmao join Lau, but then I thought, 'Let the girl hold her own while she's still alive!' So Ranmao is alive and well and making her own way now. In fact, she just might show up later for a cameo…

And as for Madam Red's partner in crime… well, you'll have to wait and see.

I promise there won't be such a long wait between chapters this time!


	8. The Manticore's Offer

**Chapter Eight:**

_**The Manticore's Offer**_

It was very late one night, after darkness had swum over the glass hill in waves and Ciel was asleep in bed that the Manticore came visiting. There were no stars, and there was no moon, and it was pitch dark. Heavy claws dug themselves into the hill with every thundering step as they climbed, screeching on the glass, closer and closer to the demon's door. The cat heard them as they grew louder and fled with a yowl from Sebastian's arms.

The pounding on the door almost awakened Ciel, but he was a few floors up and very soundly asleep. He only began to stir when the cat slipped into his room and sought comfort under his blankets, for she understood that something serious was taking place that she had no part in. Ciel was caught in that shadowy haze between asleep and awake, and he thought, dimly, that he must be having a nightmare.

Sebastian opened the front door, and the house shuddered and quaked as the Manticore stepped inside.

The Manticore had no name because he had never needed one. He knew the demon from a long, long time ago, far before he had ever been Sebastian, and through his keen hunter's eyes he observed the demon now.

The Manticore's face was a human face but a twisted and feral one, his hair was a matted lion's mane, his torso was savagely bent between that of a man and that of an animal, and his eyes were violent yellow slits. His scorpion tail hovered poisonously taut behind him and his hind legs scratched splintering lines into the floor.

Sebastian waited for the Manticore to speak.

"Banished," snarled the Manticore, and the walls groaned at his voice. "Cast out," the floors trembled. "Exiled," the flames in the fireplace smothered themselves. "Disgraced," the moon, already invisible, wrapped itself more tightly in the black clouds. "…and playing _nursemaid."_

Sebastian's eyes narrowed angrily.

"You are a domesticated fool," said the Manticore, "And your eyes are full of famine." His voice was the sound wood makes as it burns. "Give him to me," said the Manticore. "I owe you this favor from many years past. Fetch the boy who sleeps upstairs and bring him to me, and his death will be your freedom."

Sebastian said… nothing.

A profound and resonant nothing.

"I hunger, as you do," said the Manticore to the demon. "I starve, as you do. I am as ravenous as you, but I, unlike you, am free. My teeth are as sharp as yours, but yours are useless. You would have done as much yourself, if only you could. Give me the boy."

Sebastian said… nothing.

Sebastian said nothing, and the Manticore absorbed his silence. His scorpion tail hung over his head, heavy with poison, as deadly as his sharp teeth and cruel claws and yellow eyes. As deadly as the demon's silence.

Sebastian turned from the Manticore and climbed the stairs. He turned down the hallway that led to Ciel's room. He walked down the hall and stood at Ciel's door. In deadly silence, he opened it to find that Ciel was awake.

He was sitting up in bed with Castalia in his lap, and he looked at the demon as he had looked at him on the day they met; half fearfully, half curiously. Sebastian looked into his eyes, and Ciel looked back into his, and they shared the silence between them.

Ciel was not afraid of the demon that stood in his doorway. He was terrified of the thing that waited for him downstairs, but he could not, after all this time, be afraid of Sebastian. Not even when he knew that a part of the demon wanted to be well rid of him, for to get rid of Ciel was to be free again.

They looked at each other for a long time, and neither one could think of anything to say to the other.

It seemed to the Manticore much too long before he heard the demon descending the stairs. By this time his jaws were bared and drool was seeping from his mouth. His claws and tail were poised to kill. He was hungry.

But the demon returned empty-handed, and the Manticore snarled, enraged. "_The boy,"_ he demanded.

Sebastian shook his head and said, "No."

Ciel, safe in his room, could hear the Manticore's next words as if the creature were standing beside him.

"Fool," the Manticore spat. "Stay trapped if you wish, it is all the same to me. In a hundred years you will not remember that the boy even existed."

When the Manticore was gone from the glass hill the house breathed a sigh, the fire re-lit, the cat ventured back downstairs, and fear loosened its grip in Ciel's chest. It took him a long time to fall back to sleep, and he lay awake for hours, thinking.

When he did finally slip back into slumber, he had a very strange dream. He dreamed that he went home and grew up and forgot all about Sebastian. In his dream, he had forgotten how to believe in glass hills and banished demons; how to bake and tie his shoes and dress himself. In his dream, crows were only crows and nothing more.

But worst of all… because he had forgotten all about Sebastian, Sebastian had forgotten all about him. Neither one knew that the other existed, and Ciel, in his dream, thought that it was the truth.

He jumped sharply awake and lay in the dark, unable to go back to sleep at all, this time.

After a minute, he climbed out of bed and left his room. He walked through the black and silent house until he found the demon, sitting before a dying fire and absentmindedly stroking Castalia, who was fast asleep on his lap.

The firelight flickered in Sebastian's cranberry-colored eyes and warmed the shadowy room. Ciel sat down next to him and looked up at him with eyes as deep and blue and alive as the ocean.

"You are real, aren't you?" he said, his tone serious.

"Certainly I am real," said Sebastian. "I am more real, in fact, than many other people. I am so real that you could not forget me even if you tried."

Ciel blinked sleepily at him. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," said Sebastian.

Ciel nodded and got to his feet. Sebastian always knew what to say. "I just had to make sure," he said.

"That's perfectly understandable," said Sebastian.

Comforted, Ciel returned to his room and crawled back under the warm covers, and he fell asleep.

Sebastian sat in front of the fire until it burned out. He stayed there and stared at the ashes as the sun came up, wondering if what he had said was true.

* * *

A/N: I felt that this story needed a manticore, so I gave it one.

This chapter was written while I was simultaneously watching an episode of Death Note, an episode of Gilmore Girls, and the Scrubs dubbed version of A Charlie Brown Christmas. Inspiration is found in odd places…


	9. The Dollhouse Door

**Chapter Nine:**

_**The Dollhouse Door**_

On cloudy, rainy, overcast days, the glass hill took on an opalescent, pearly shine and looked just as though it was filled with clouds. It was on a day like this that the demon was teaching the boy how the addition of cinnamon to pastries improves practically everything, and the boy was commenting, as he ate raw cookie dough out of a bowl with a large wooden spoon, that if the demon ever cared to leave off being wicked, he might open his own bakery.

Sebastian responded to this by coming to the rescue of the endangered cookie dough, which was fast disappearing, and ordering Ciel out of the kitchen. Ciel, with a glower, took his unwilling leave not only from the kitchen, but from the house, and rebelliously decided to tempt fate once again by going farther than the wooden porch.

He had, with some practice, become skilled at keeping his balance on the curving glass, since he had quickly grown tired of slipping down the hill by accident,(which after twelve times in one afternoon had ceased to be fun.) He stepped very carefully, and stared gloomily downwards at the grey reflection of the sky.

The dreary day was reminding him of happy years in London; the peace of the green countryside and the thrill of the cobblestone city, and soon he was consumed with gnawing homesickness and longing for lost things.

But he blinked, and blinked again, as he stared at the glass. He had noticed something – there! A flaw in the perfect surface, a scratch – no, a crack. From where the Manticore's claws had pierced it as he ascended. Ciel found another next to it, and another, and another still farther down.

He knelt as near to this one as he dared, for the glass hill began to get steep and he didn't want to fall. This one was large, larger than it had looked from a distance. It was really more of a hole than a scratch. Ciel wondered, was the hill beginning to crumble? What would he and Sebastian do if the hill should suddenly shatter beneath them?

The hole, strangely enough, seemed to be growing larger and more jagged the longer Ciel looked at it. He leaned out slowly, cautiously, to see down beneath the glass… but he leaned too far and not cautiously enough; he slid down the steep hill and fell right through the gap.

Thankfully, he kept his head and was smart enough not to grab at the sharp edges of the hole as he fell, which would have sliced into his hands. When he landed – hard, and rather abruptly – he found that he had fallen on stone, and that the silence around him glittered. He was inside the glass hill.

The ground was not really stone, he found, but more smooth glass, and all around Ciel shone glass caves, crevices and paths, sparkling white or grey in answer to the sky. He supposed that when the sun was out the glass caught the light like a crystal. It was strange and beautiful inside the glass hill… but there was no way out! But Ciel did not panic, because he was distracted by something else he had not noticed right away.

He was not alone. There was someone in the glass hill with him.

Such a colorful personage Ciel had never seen. His hair was light orange and naturally so, his skin was paper-white and his eyes were deeply purple, polished and opaque, like marbles. His suit of royal blue trimmed in red looked like a cross between a soldier's uniform and a masquerade costume… intricately detailed, yet lacking authenticity. His tall black top hat had two stiff black feathers stuck jauntily in its red-ribbon brim. And on his cheek, just below his right eye, was a dark blue fleur-de-lis. The stranger looked, as a whole, like a tall, thin, marionette without strings…moving a little awkwardly for lack of them.

He shambled in his marionette way toward Ciel, and he was smiling.

"Hello," said Ciel. "Who are you?" He forgot his manners out of surprise, or of course he would have introduced himself. But the stranger did not mind.

"I am Drocell," the stranger said, with something that was almost a hint of a French accent. "And you are Ciel. Your name means 'sky', and mine… means… nothing…" His head tilted to one side, and sawdust trickled from one ear with a tiny hiss. He seemed to have run out of energy like wind-up toy; his voice had gone slightly out of tune. Ciel drew near to see if the stranger had somehow fainted with his eyes open, but the stranger darted up after a moment as though someone had pulled his strings, and Ciel jumped back.

"Won't you stay and play?" asked Drocell in a crooning voice. "Won't you stay?"

Ciel noticed then that there were objects scattered here and there on the glassy floor… dolls, lots of dolls, porcelain and rags, curls and yarn, and eyes like Drocell's. Toy trains, jacks, playing cards, puzzles, and what looked like a small wooden ark with delicate porcelain animals, two of every kind, that looked just like the one he and Lizzie used to play with.

"Won't you stay and play?" asked Drocell. "Demons are not so bad; they can do many things, like baking and cleaning, and some of them can dance. But demons don't _play._ Won't you stay and play? _Stay," _he said again, for Ciel had backed away mistrustfully.

"I – I'm too old to play," said Ciel, which was only partly true. "And I don't have time. I've got to go, but there's no way out. How do I get out?"

"The same way that I get out," said Drocell, who looked disappointed. "Through the door."

"What door?" asked Ciel suspiciously.

"This one," said Drocell, and from behind the glass where it had been hidden, Drocell took up a large, lovely, luxuriously ornate dollhouse. He pointed to the little front door, which was painted several mismatched colors that somehow looked well together, and swung it back and forth on its miniature hinges.

Ciel gave a gasp. "That looks like my house! My old house in London, the one that burned – except for the door," Ciel paused with a frown. "The door wasn't painted like that. Why do you have a dollhouse like that?" he demanded.

"This dollhouse matches the one Sebastian Michaelis has hidden away in a room in the house on top of this glass hill," said Drocell.

"There isn't - " began Ciel.

"There is," corrected Drocell. "And this door," he swung the little painted door again, "will take you through the door in that dollhouse, and bring you home. Or," he added, thoughtfully, "It will take you outside of the hill of doors. That's actually where we are right now, inside the hill of doors. Everywhere is inside the hill of doors. Didn't you know that?"

"No," said Ciel. "Why would Sebastian have a dollhouse like that?"

Drocell lost his smile and cocked his head to the side once more, and this time a few pieces of straw fell out with the sawdust. "I don't know," he said. "You'd better ask him."

"Yes," Ciel agreed.

"But not now!" said Drocell quickly, with another puppet-like movement of his arms. "You aren't going to go yet, no, you're going to stay. Stay and play," begged Drocell, and his voice was almost hypnotizing. "Stay."

Ciel felt his head grow foggy with Drocell's voice and the glitter of the glass, but then he looked again at the dollhouse, and his head cleared. He had a dreadful thought. What if, inside the dollhouse, there were little dolls of his mother, his father, himself? He didn't want to see, and yet… he wanted desperately to see. And yet he felt that he couldn't bear to see.

"No," was all he said. "No, no, I have to go now." He approached the dollhouse and took the tiny door handle between two fingers. "How…?"

"Just go on through it," said Drocell, his purple marble eyes catching light from the glass. So Ciel did, though he was never quite sure exactly how. But all of a sudden he was back in the demon's house. He knew he was by looking out the window and seeing the familiar view of hills, though he had never been in this particular room before. He turned around to see where he had come from, and found himself facing the dollhouse. The dollhouse that looked so like his old home, that Sebastian was keeping secret from him. Why?

He made his way downstairs and found Sebastian just where he had seen him last.

"The biscuits are ready," the demon said. "You may have some as soon as they cool. We might have had more, if half of the dough had not been eaten up before it could be put in the oven." His tone was stern, but there was a spark of resigned humor in his eyes.

"Sebastian?" Ciel began.

"Hmm?"

Ciel opened his mouth to continue, then paused. Perhaps, he thought, if the demon had secrets, he was entitled to secrets of his own. Perhaps it might be better if Sebastian did not know about the marionette stranger Ciel had met inside the glass hill. He decided then and there that he would not tell Sebastian that he knew about the dollhouse door or where it led. He could keep secrets as well.

"Nothing," he shook his head as if to clear it. "Nothing. Never mind."

* * *

A/N: I seem to have gotten into the terrible habit of not answering reviews. I'll try to be better about it, since reviews feed my very soul and I live on them, but for all those who were kind enough to leave reviews, THANK YOU!

On another note, yesterday (Halloween) was my birthday, and one of my friends took me to see the musical HAIR. If you have not listened to the songs, listen to them! If you have not seen the show, go and see it! It was fantastically amazing and I will be singing the songs for months.


	10. The Crow and the Kitten

**Chapter Ten:**

_**The Crow and the Kitten**_

This is the story of something that happened just one week after that cold day in December when the demon was banished to the glass hill. The hill was drab and barren then, the house was old, empty, and full of cobwebs, and Sebastian, looking critically at his new home with dissatisfied eyes, was completely alone. He would not meet Ciel for another three years yet, and even though he had only seen the boy for an instant, staring out at him through a window, Sebastian hated him. He swore to himself that he would get the boy's soul someday, and when the demon swore something, he always went through with it. His anger then was very new and very powerful.

The demon did not like the glass hill, he did not like his run-down, musty old house, and he especially did not like his new name. He believed that 'Sebastian' sounded pretentious. It was certainly no fitting name for a butler. If he had the name long enough, the demon thought sourly, its pretentiousness might even rub off on him.

The demon was not quite wise enough to know that it is the owner of a name that influences the name, and not the other way around. Nor was he wise enough to realize that he had always been a little bit pretentious to begin with, no matter what name he had. And probably he would never realize it, so it is safe to assume that it never bothered him.

Sebastian had wasted no time in getting to work on his disgracefully neglected house. Banishment was no excuse for sloppiness to a demon butler, and with a glance at his pocket watch, ticking away the seconds of his imprisonment reliably, he had set in.

On this particular day, Sebastian was relieving some stifled aggression by housecleaning with a vengeance. No piece of furniture in the house was safe from him, no inch, cranny, nook, or corner of his house was left unscoured, no floor unswept, no table-top or banister unpolished, no rugs unshaken, windows unwashed, or door hinges un-oiled, no speck of dust allowed to rest on any surface. Sebastian had very few personal touches to add to the house; no nick-knacks, books or pictures, and hardly any furnishings, so the overall effect was still very bleak and very lonely… but very, _very _clean. He even polished up the glass hill.

His thoughts as he cleaned were morbid, violent, terrible thoughts… some so terrible that even the demon hated to think them, and that are far too heinous to describe. It happened to be a beautiful day, but Sebastian was determined to be in a dark and stormy mood.

He was sullenly polishing his second-best tea set (porcelain, hand-painted with violets and roses) to a mirror-like shine when he first thought he heard something strange. He stopped. Listened. Continued, when he did not hear it again.

When the tea set was finished to the demon's satisfaction – that is, when it gleamed so brightly as to be almost painful – he moved on to his best tea set, which he was very fond of. It was fine bone-china, hand-painted beautifully and set off with golden trim. As he set the tray on the table and picked up the sugar bowl, the faint little noise sounded again.

_What in the world? _Sebastian wondered. He had never heard such a sound before. It was a pitiful, sad little noise; a mewling sort of peep.

It was coming from the tea set.

Sebastian took the lid off the sugar bowl. Empty. He peeked into the creamer, the cups and saucers. Empty. And there was the noise again!

All that remained was the teapot. Delicately, the demon picked it up. He knew at once that it was heavier than an empty teapot ought to be. He removed the lid, and peered inside.

Two round eyes belonging to a small, fluffy stranger peered back at him from the darkness. The creature daringly popped its head out to meet him, and once more it trilled a tiny _mew_. Sebastian set the teapot down, and reached one gloved hand in to remove the intruder. "How," he said aloud in awe, "Did a kitten get into my best teapot?" For it was a tiny kitten, with miniscule black paws and a perfect miniature face, practically shivering with newness, and putting tiny pinpricks into his gloves with its claws as it clung to his hand. Its eyes shone like the golden trim of the tea set.

"Oh my, oh my," said Sebastian with a smile. He knew, from all the fables he had ever heard, just how to speak to a kitten. "Pretty mistress kitten," he began, as was proper, "how lovely you are. How soft your fur, how slender your paws, how graceful the arch of your tail. What striking golden eyes you have."

This was, of course, precisely the right way to speak, as no kitten can ever resist being flattered. The kitten in question began to ignore him with tremendous dignity even as she clung to his hand, which was larger than her whole body. (She was, as Sebastian had guessed, a _she._)

The demon set her lightly down into a teacup, which she quickly scrambled out of, knocking it over in the process. Sebastian was so charmed by her that he did not even scold her for it. But she was still very young, and she could not keep her balance while walking. Sebastian scooped her up and set her on her feet every time she fell over. She was, Sebastian realized, a wise little kitten, for she did not trust the demon in the least. She accepted his compliments with grace, cordially thanked him for his gift of a saucer of cream – but she would not give him her affections. Every time he offered to assist her, she tottered unsteadily away on her petite padded paws, and she refused to tell him her name.

"How can I win her trust?" Sebastian mused, as he went about polishing the tea set. He did not realize it, but his vile mood had evaporated entirely, and he thought no more ghastly thoughts. He was keeping one eye on the kitten to make sure she did not go toppling from the counter-top. As the day passed, the kitten caused all sorts of mischief. She ripped up the bottoms of the curtains, she left black fur on the light-colored furniture, she crawled underneath the china-cabinet and could not get out again, and she somehow ended up locking herself in Sebastian's wardrobe.

He had lost track of the roving kitten by the time she managed this, and was drawn to her by following her frantic mewls for help. When he opened the doors, he picked her up amidst her shrilling protests and held her by the scruff of her neck. "Now listen to me, young miss," he said firmly. "We are to have no more of this nonsense today. I must make this house presentable, so you must stay with me." His strict tone was only an excellent act, for the kitten had quite stolen his heart.

He did not, however, know that picking a kitten up by the scruff of the neck is one of the most comfortable things he could have done. While he spoke, the kitten's tail, smaller than even one of the demon's fingers, curled around her little feet, and she began to doze off in his hand. With a look and a smile that felt foreign on the demon's face, he slipped the drowsing kitten gently into the pocket of his coat. Perhaps having something to look after would make banished life more interesting, after all.

As the demon continued to clean, into the evening and long into the night, he would look down at his kitten every so often. And when he did, he did not think about the pretentiousness of his new name, or the bleak emptiness of the glass hill, and he forgot to be discontent.

* * *

A/N: I'm thinking there's going to be quite a few of these "in between" chapters scattered here and there every once in a while, just to fill in some missing details of the story.

Much more importantly: I recently sent several review responses to some absolutely wonderful reviewers for various stories of mine… but now the website is telling me that most of them probably did not go through. And 'probably' means 'definitely'. Very, VERY uncool. So as always, to all my reviewers, thank you so much! But specifically to LifeInABox66, and especially to AmitraDay – a thousand times thank you for your wonderful reviews! And if you think you might be someone who didn't receive a response from me, feel free to send me a message. :)


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